Long Forgot Lullaby
by VoiceInMyHead
Summary: 'And now all she had to do was discover it, discover love again..." Brittany.S.Pears, slightly AU, in diary form.
1. Prologue

"Fuck. Some people just want to be the centre of everything above and beyond. Or below." Brittany said under her breath, bitterly feeling the sting of the slap across her cheek. Crashing down onto her turquoise bedspread, she stared at the ceiling for a few moments, her eyes showing no emotion, before sitting upright and flinging her laptop open. Slamming her password in, she tried to hold onto what had just happened, trying desperately to fight of tears, but still wanting the cruelty fresh in her brain for her diary. She eagerly awaited her sense of calm and control that she could only find while delving into her innermost thoughts and deep red or shockingly bright blue feelings of conflicted emotions. A blur of clashing brown and brick red flew onto Brittany's duvet, snuggling into her hunched figure. The blonde teen leaned over and buried herself in her cat Hester's warm, comforting fur and breathed.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Faster, faster, .

A rush of multicoloured images soon followed, condescending memories falling on top of each before replay of the past argument with her mother. The brain freeze of a hot, burning headache caused by heartburn created sharp pain in her head, mind and soul.

"Maybe this is too much for Venting Machine With No Category. Madonna then." She said to herself, reaching for her CD case, which was really just an old make up bag customized with pink and purple nail polish blotches strategically placed between each who-knows-what stain. She managed to get a good gripe on the disk, even with her shaky fingers, a result of the already mentioned fight. Placing the object inside her walkman she waited for the upbeat tempo to float through her headphones and into her mind, so she could mesmerize the song and keep it stored in her head, only to be used at Middle School when the taunts and non funny so called jokes became too much for her. At school she had the honour of being class ditz, head always lost always lost in the clouds. Body and heart directly in a different place, a better place. Somewhere over the rainbow, where there was a land where people actually live and people actually loved. Where people learnt and people gained valuable and important lessons from their frequent mistakes.

Unfortunately, it had been lost in her long forgotten lullaby.

And now all she had to do was discover it, discover love again.

**AN**

**This is kind off AU, because, personally I don't believe that Britters parents are abusing her. I think it's more Santana, but for the sake of the story, let's just pretend, yes? This is set before Glee and Cheerio's, though it will go into that time period. **

**VIMH**


	2. Page One

_VeNtInG mAcHiNe WiTh No CaTeGoRy _

_By the totally kickass moi, Brittany Pears_

Their shouting. Shit. That means their fighting again.

Of course. Way to go genius.

I'm not good with words. I can't describe a daffodil in full season bloom. Nor can I compare a work of beauty created by the divine nature to a machine made intact by overworked human's dirty hands. I lose myself in words; get lost trailing their endless paths and patterns. My written work is all dilly dally, a confusion of blended meanings and sentences and all that crazy, messed up junk drawer confusion. I honestly don't even know what I'm blabbering about now. That's ok though. Because this is my feelings book, my hot n cold, topsy turvy, uh oh book. A place where my brain can flow out on that weird paper shaped thing on Microsoft Word and no one but me me me can read it and rejoice at the celebration of me!

I like me. Why shouldn't I? Everyone should like themselves otherwise no one else will. And I want people to like me. I want to feel needed, loved, and meaningful. I want to be more than a product and outcome of a one night stand, which forced my parents to give up their lives and marry.

I matter. I have a definition, a meaning for existence. I must. Everyone does.

I think.


	3. Page Two

_VeNtInG mAcHiNe WiTh No CaTeGoRy _

_By the totally kickass moi, Brittany Pears_

Have you ever stared at the moon, really stared, long and hard, examined all the cracks and edges and wondered, wondered how they got there?

I have a crack. In my arm. A long, skinny as a string bean scar. From a equally long brown leather belt. It hurt at first but then the pain soon melted away. Now it's just a stinging reminder.

At least I'm like the moon.

The moon is pretty though, all silvery and gleaming, shining brightly in all its glory, proudly beaming its glow down on the dark and gloomy earth, casting a sparkling shadow of illusion and cheering the darkness that follows the night.

So I guess the moons a criminal, stealing reality and replacing it with natures mirrored beauty. Yet in a way the moons an artist, painting a portrait of love and casting its locliness onto the already perfect banks and rivers, keeping perfection to the gazers of stars and whatnot.

I like the moon.


End file.
